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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572437">Intruder Alert- Wait, That's Just Me.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FountainPen/pseuds/FountainPen'>FountainPen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Psych (TV 2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Content warnings in the notes, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Intrusive Thoughts, Juliet O'Hara - Freeform, Look me in the eye and tell me, Mild Gore, Shawn Spencer Whump, So much angst, basically all the stuff that comes with intrusive thoughts, burton "gus" guster - Freeform, carlton lassiter - Freeform, me? Projecting? absolutely., that an eidetic memory wouldn't be the absolute worst with intrusive thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:54:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FountainPen/pseuds/FountainPen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Shawn deals with intrusive thoughts and the pitfalls of an eidetic memory. Heavily based on the author's own intrusive thoughts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Intruder Alert- Wait, That's Just Me.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this a lot heavier than what I usually write, just because it deals with intrusive thoughts and the topics that come with that. I will say there are no sexual-based intrusive thoughts because I personally don't experience those and this is based on my own experience with intrusive thoughts. For any of my readers who also struggle with intrusive thoughts, they do not define us, and they are not accurate measures of our character. You are not your intrusive thoughts. They are not reflections of our inner dialogue and you are not a bad person for having them. </p><p>As always, feedback is appreciated, and if you need to talk, I'm here &lt;3</p><p>Content Warnings:<br/>-Intrusive thoughts<br/>-Discussion of dead bodies<br/>-gore<br/>-vomiting<br/>SPOILER:<br/>-An intrusive dream in which Shawn kills someone by cutting their throat</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shawn looked down at his burger, his face a picture of dismay and disgust. It was difficult for one to eat when all he could think about was dismembered bodies in a basement- and it wasn’t that Shawn was trying to eat after a difficult case, he’d learned his lesson after vomiting up the popcorn he’d shared with Abigail after the Yang case as soon as Gus dropped him off at his Fluff n’ Fold. No, he was remembering a case from weeks ago, for no reason at all, without any prompting.</p><p> </p><p>God, he remembered every insect squirming over the already rotting limbs in excruciating detail. And the <em>smell- </em></p><p> </p><p>“Shawn? What is it?” Gus asked, interrupting the memory that had Shawn paling where he sat. He must've noticed the face Shawn was pulling.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing man, I totally just let a fly land on my burger, it needs to be incinerated,” Shawn replied. Telling Gus he couldn’t stop thinking about the corpses of an old case was just going to ruin his friend’s appetite too. Gus made a face and glanced around to ensure his food wouldn’t be violated by any flying pests.</p><p> </p><p>“This is why we eat inside Shawn,” Gus said. Shawn shrugged and took a sip of his soda. It didn’t really help.</p><p> </p><p>What did help was a fresh case to start on, which was where Gus and Shawn were headed immediately after eating. Shawn was praying it wasn’t going to be a gross one.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It was a gross one. It was a really <em>really </em>gross one. Gus took one look at the blood smeared on the front door of the house and informed Shawn he’d be waiting in the car, and Shawn didn't judge him for a second.</p><p> </p><p>Inside was something out of a horror movie- no it was something that if put into a horror movie, would be laughed off as completely unrealistic. Shawn just about joined Gus in the Blueberry.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus,” Jules hissed. She shifted back a step audibly, the plastic covering her shoes was crinkling with every move she made, it was a sound that had Shawn's finger's drumming against his leg.</p><p> </p><p>“It looks like someone put him through a woodchipper,” Shawn said if only to drown out the sound. The room smelled like copper and rot. Shawn was glad he hadn’t finished that burger as his eyes flitted around the room and memorized every minute chunk of what used to be a person spattering the walls, floor, and ceiling. He was really hoping the spots on the ceiling weren't going to drip because if Shawn got dripped on, he was going to fucking vomit.</p><p> </p><p>“There are tire tracks near the back door, so that may be just what happened,” Lassiter said, picking his way through the room and doing his best not to step on anything. His foot squelched on a small clump of hair and flesh and Shawn gagged. “Try not to contaminate the crime scene, Spencer.”</p><p> </p><p>Shawn made the choice not to tell Lassie that he was looking a little green himself. The rest of the time Shawn spent in the house was on auto-pilot, doing what he would normally do but with no real zest behind it, because how could you have zest after <em>that</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Lassiter was the one who figured out that the wife of the victim- and the forensic’s team confirmed that that was one person, sprayed into the living room of a house that looked like it was meant for a family- was nowhere to be found. The kids were at summer camp. Shawn noticed the tiny drops of blood leading to a trick door on the floor of the shed in the backyard and pretended to have a vision that led the team to where a bloodsoaked woman was crouched clutching a kitchen knife. Apparently cheating on a woman with access to a woodchipper is a terrible idea.</p><p> </p><p>They were done in under an hour, Lassie even told him he did ‘Admirably, considering the circumstances.' Shawn told Gus he really, really didn’t want to know what it looked like, and Gus didn’t press the issue- but was concerned when Shawn declined his offer for smoothies. Any food was most likely not going to stay down, much less something blended. Shawn told him he had to catch the John Wick marathon that he probably wouldn’t actually be watching. Cartoons sounded good right about then.</p><p> </p><p>So when Shawn was dropped at his Fluff n’ Fold, he found some re-runs of Scooby-Doo and lay curled on his couch until his eyes were too heavy to keep open.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shawn followed the man quickly and quietly. Sliding behind furniture and into doorways. He had been for some time, and he could tell the man was getting nervous. Paranoid, even. Was it paranoia if he was right to be afraid? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The doors in the house were all padlocked, the key was safe and sound in Shawn’s pocket. The man had woken up after being taken off the street, behind some shitty little bar. He was easy, even if Shawn wasn’t the strongest guy in the world. He’d have to thank Gus for letting him borrow his car. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The game did get boring after a little bit, Shawn was getting tired. It was late. He moved up directly behind the man, and just as the man had begun to turn around Shawn grabbed him by the hair and forced his knees to the floor. His knife slid across the man’s throat quickly, he could feel the skin splitting as blood began to spout from the wound- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Shawn jolted awake with a gasp and jumped off of his couch, tripping over his coffee table in the process. He was quick to scramble into the restroom where he vomited into the toilet until he was just dry-heaving, the cold linoleum floor a relief on his overheated body.</p><p> </p><p>“What the <em> fuck </em>?” Shawn hissed to himself between his gasps for air, “What the fuck?”</p><p> </p><p>In all his years nothing like that had ever happened. He’d never- he wouldn’t <em>do </em>that. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was losing his mind, or something, and it was getting harder to breathe in his cramped little bathroom. Shawn replayed the dream in his head, hovering over the toilet as he did, just in case.</p><p> </p><p>The man’s face was that of the victim they’d found that day- or yesterday, Shawn hadn’t exactly checked the time. But it was him, pre-shredding, it was Mr. Rick Tatum, father of two and now ex-husband of Florence Tatum. And Shawn…</p><p> </p><p>Shawn vomited again.</p><p> </p><p>After he was done, Shawn dragged himself off the floor and clutched the edge of the sink to steady himself. His mirror showed him a sleeping deprived, shaking figure. He scrubbed his face and hands with water to avoid looking for too long. He cranked the hot water up for his hands, they felt dirty, like he'd shoved his bare hands into the mess of a crime scene from earlier that day- or yesterday? he didn't care. His hands felt like he'd plunged them into the most concentrated pile of viscera and <em>squeezed-</em></p><p> </p><p>God, Shawn wasn’t ready to deal with that, but there was nothing in his brain to shove this under. It had settled at the top of his thoughts like oil and it was pushing the rest of him down. He kept scrubbing until his hands were red and raw. He was more or less satisfied, so Shawn did what Shawn does, and after changing his shirt- he’d fallen asleep in his jeans, he hopped on his bike and started driving.</p><p> </p><p>Shawn stopped at the burger place he and Gus had been at that day, it was luckily one of the few 24/7 businesses in Santa Barbara, so Shawn was able to eat the meal he’d coughed up earlier. He couldn’t get through it without thinking of decaying limbs and squirming insects.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, Shawn just drove until the sun came up, circling Santa Barbara until fatigue set in again and he trusted himself enough to fall asleep. The drive home was slow, the guilt was settling back in and Shawn wanted to feel all of it. If he felt guilty it meant he wasn’t the fucked up monster he’d imagined himself as in that dream.</p><p> </p><p>Collapsing into his actual bed was a relief, and waking up three hours later from a dreamless sleep was even more so, but as Shawn sat forcing down cereal so he’d have some form of calorie to burn for the day, the guilt crept back in. And settled over his head until he was provided with a long enough distraction to stave it off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(The links I post will be below this note)</p><p>This was definitely an experience to write, I drew fairly directly from my own intrusive thoughts, sans the eidetic memory. I don't know how well I worked it in, but I wanted to add the odd experience of accidentally creating correlations between otherwise inane things and intrusive thoughts. The burger place is a definite reflection of myself because while Wendy's is my go-to fast food place in a rush, I almost always end up thinking about accidental cannibalism while I'm eating, which makes it hard to eat. It's almost always only Wendy's, even if I get the same meal somewhere else. I'm not willing to talk much about the dream other than what I wrote Shawn experiencing, but I will say it took me... a while. to feel comfortable after a similar dream. <br/>there's a lot of guilt that comes with intrusive thoughts, and I may add to this in the future just as a way to indirectly vent my own thoughts. But once again to anyone reading this that may deal with intrusive thoughts, violent, sexual, self-destructive, or otherwise, you aren't alone, and you're not a bad person.</p><p>--<br/>https://www.standwithbre.com/</p><p>https://blacklivesmatter.com/resources/</p><p>As of 11/14/2020 Breonna Taylor still does not have the justice she deserves. Neither do countless other BIPOC individuals who are the victims of police violence and institutional racism. The momentum of the movement is slowing down and I would like to remind anyone that needs to hear it that Black Lives Matter is not a trend. Their lives matter, and always will. If you have any resources you'd like me to share please let me know and I'll add it to this list/future fics</p></blockquote></div></div>
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